Playing Games
by molly2012
Summary: Gibbs discovers what Ziva does for relaxation when nothing else works. Reviews always appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

_Probably a oneshot, and just a bit of fun :)._

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with NCIS. _**

* * *

Gibbs pulled up outside the smart apartment block, switching off his headlights but leaving the engine running. Looking up out of the car window, he could see that lights were on in almost all of the apartments, some brightly shining down into the street, others slightly muffled by curtains or blinds. It was very late on a midweek evening, the sort of time when his father used to say that all law-abiding folk should be at home, either their own or someone else's. Gibbs had thought about his own home, but even with a half-finished boat in his basement and a full bottle of bourbon, it didn't hold much appeal. He certainly didn't think he would be able to settle to anything constructive. The case that had been going on for the past two weeks, and that had finally wound up that day, had been a rough one that had taken its toll on all of them and, for once, Leroy Jethro Gibbs wanted some company.

He told himself that his journey could just as easily have ended outside DiNozzo's place, or Ducky's, or McGee's. Except that DiNozzo had mentioned something about a woman he had met at a coffee shop, a trip to the movies and...well. Whatever came after the trip to the movies. Ducky had been playing bridge and would probably now be at home asleep, while McGee would have fully transformed into the Elf Lord. Abby was at some gig –she had mentioned the name of the band, but he hadn't really taken much notice. He had even considered Tobias before he remembered that his old friend and sparring partner had his daughter staying. So that left him one place to go – and, if he was honest, it was the only place where he really wanted to be anyway.

Switching off the engine, Gibbs looked up again, this time at the apartment window that he knew was hers. He had been here before, but never on his own and never at half past eleven at night. And, he knew, there was a very good reason for that. Generally, the attraction that he felt towards her was stored safely in a box labeled as either 'off limits' or 'private fantasy', depending on his mood, but keeping it there was hard enough during the course of a normal working day. This would be pushing his luck – or, rather, his self-control, since he didn't really think that luck had much to do with it. But, on the other hand, he knew she was home. He knew she would still be up. He knew that she was the only person who would understand how he felt tonight – the restlessness, the need to let off steam but also the disinclination to go out and get hammered, the tiredness but also the buzz that all came with successfully closing a case. And he also knew that she would accept, without too many questions, the fact that the basement wasn't up to the job tonight.

Pulling out his cell, he dialed her number before he could change his mind, and she answered on the second ring.

'I did wonder how long you were going to sit outside before you either rang the entry bell or phoned'.

Gibbs looked up, and could see a dark shadow at one of the windows on the second floor. Getting out of the car, he moved towards the entrance door.

'Mind if I come up?'

She laughed, a warm, throaty sound that made him wonder whether this had been such a good idea after all.

'Of course not. I will let you in'.

He heard the sharp ping of the entry bell, and pulled back the front door that led into the communal hallway and the staircase. There was no elevator. Taking the stairs quickly, he reached the right floor and paused outside the apartment door before taking a deep breath and turning the handle.

She had left it open for him.

Stepping inside, into the spacious living room, the first thing he noticed was the gun on the coffee table. It was gleaming, and the small brush and bottle of lubricant lying nearby indicated that it had recently been taken to pieces and cleaned inside out. Gibbs smirked as he pushed the door shut behind him. He knew that cleaning her gun was one of the ways in which she tried to relax. When that didn't work...he looked around him for evidence of her other tried and tested method, and chuckled quietly to himself as he caught sight of the knife embedded in a wooden block that had been propped up against the wall. He wondered what her neighbours made of it.

He looked around him for a moment, absorbing the sight and scent of the room that was uniquely hers. It was warm, inviting, simply furnished with splashes of deep, earthy colour that lent a slightly exotic touch and, as on those occasions when he had visited before, the scent of fresh flowers and faint perfume filled the apartment. It should have been at odds with the gun on the table and the knife in the block, but somehow, to Gibbs, it seemed natural. It was who she was.

'I will be there in a minute. Make yourself comfortable'.

Her voice drifted through from the kitchen, through the door that was ajar at the far end of the living room. Now that he listened, Gibbs could hear her moving around - light footsteps across the floorboards, the sound of a cupboard door opening and closing. And then a soft, repetitive noise, like a muffled slap over and over again. Frowning slightly, he ignored the invitation to make himself at home in the living room and moved towards the kitchen instead. As he opened the door fully and took in the spectacle in front of him, the frown was replaced first by a raised eyebrow of surprise, and then by a look of amusement that made his sharp blue eyes soften and twinkle.

'Anyone I know?'

* * *

Ziva had seen Gibbs pull up outside her apartment, had watched as he sat and waited, and had, deep down, realized why he was hesitating. She had not been so sure herself whether inviting him up was a good idea. Being alone with Gibbs always tested her iron self-control to the absolute limit, and she did not think she really had the energy for it tonight. But when he had rung her cell, she had found herself answering, buzzing him in downstairs, and opening her apartment door for him regardless. She had found she wanted the company.

The case, for some reason, had been difficult over the past two weeks, and Ziva suspected it had been the same for all of them. She was exhausted. The flood of relief at finally ending it and leaving it behind should have allowed her to relax and wind down, but instead she had found herself at home alone and unable to sleep. Cleaning her gun had not helped, nor had throwing her knives for an hour against the thick wooden block that saved her walls from becoming pock-marked. At ten thirty, she had begun to regret turning down Abby's invitation to go with her and see her friend's band play in Georgetown. Even _The Evil Eyes_ might have been better than pacing the floor of her apartment.

Finally, she had headed into her kitchen to try something else, something that she had not had to resort to for a long time. And now Gibbs was here in the kitchen with her. She found herself wishing that she had on something a little sexier than black sweatpants and a loose tank top, but told herself to get a grip. That was not, after all, what he was here for. Like her, he probably just wanted someone to be with, and tonight, it seemed, a boat in the basement had not been top of his list.

'_Anyone I know?'_

She turned as she heard his question, saw him leaning against the door-frame with that half-smile tugging at his lips, nodding towards the large ball of bread dough in her hands and looking casual in jeans and that red hoodie. Ziva really hoped that her inward hum of appreciation didn't reach her eyes.

She smiled as she turned back to her kneading, her fingers pummeling and stretching and working the bread as it gradually turned from a shaggy mess into a smooth, elastic ball. It was a great stress reliever, and she had to admit there had been times when the dough had morphed into some unfortunate person's head in her hands, but it was better than taking out her anger on the real thing. Tonight, however, there was nothing and no one in particular.

'Just life in general'.

'Hmm'.

Ziva held up a sticky hand.

'I would make coffee, but...'

'Got any bourbon?'

She nodded towards a cupboard.

'In there'. Then a nod towards another one. 'Glasses in there. This is almost done'.

'You often make bread?'

She heard Gibbs collecting the bottle of bourbon and two glasses from the cupboards, heard him pour one for himself and one for her, and watched as he set the glass down on the counter beside her.

'I do not usually have the time. But it is good for working out some tension'.

She gave the dough one last poke before placing it in a bowl and throwing a tea towel over the top. It would rise overnight. If she got up in time, she would bake it in the morning. If not, well, it had still served some sort of purpose.

'Knife didn't work?'

She laughed as she washed her hands.

'Cleaning the gun did not help, throwing the knives did not help. This is always next on the list'.

Gibbs leaned against the counter, watching her as he drank the bourbon. She was acutely aware of his eyes on her, of the electricity between them that seemed to hum loudly in the small space of the kitchen, but resolutely tried to ignore it. She wondered if he was doing the same, or whether it was all in her imagination. It was late, after all.

'What if this doesn't work?'

He handed her another towel to dry her hands, and she quickly took it and turned away on the pretext of placing it over the oven door to dry. There was no way she could tell Gibbs exactly what came next on the list of relaxation techniques. _Or_, an impish voice in her head whispered,_ was there?_

'It does not usually come to that'.

She smiled again as she turned to face him, saw his blue eyes on her, softer now that he was not at work, and still that half-smile on his face that could make her melt if she let it.

'But if it does, then an hour or so on the couch...'

He raised one eyebrow slightly and spoke quietly, so quietly that she barely heard him.

'Don't let me interrupt'.

Her heart thudded before resuming its normal pattern, and she gave a faint smirk before turning away again. She would never normally allow herself to flirt openly with Gibbs; it was one of her own rules that came under the dual headings of 'self-preservation' and 'prevention of embarrassment'. But this was exciting. Sexy. And, somewhat to her surprise, Gibbs did not seem to be complaining.

'Well, since you are here, you may as well join me'.

She walked over to the freezer and pulled open the door, rummaging for a moment before her hand emerged triumphantly clutching a large tub of Ben and Jerry's.

'Strawberry cheesecake?'

She became aware of Gibbs standing very close behind her, one hand lightly resting on the small of her back as he leaned over her shoulder and peered into the freezer, and a shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the chill emanating from the compartment. He was just as good at this game as she was. He wanted to play just as much as she did. And she knew he could tell the effect he was having on her.

He reached past her and pulled out a smaller tub, inspecting the label before nodding.

'Cookie dough'.

Ziva shrugged, replacing the strawberry cheesecake and shutting the freezer door. She would not have put Gibbs down as a cookie dough kind of guy, but still. She grinned wryly to herself. At least she had not had any 'Karamel Sutra' in there.

'Spoons are in the drawer over there'.

'Hmmm'.

He moved to allow her to brush past him, heading towards the living room, ice cream in hand.

'Ziver?'

She turned as she heard her nickname, the one that only he ever used.

'This really what you do?'

Ziva paused, deliberately considering her answer, waiting for his eyes to darken slightly as his gaze rested on her face, and knowing that hers were probably doing the same.

'No', she admitted, and was gratified to see him take a deep breath, something that looked suspiciously like desire flaring briefly in his eyes.

'But it will do for the moment'.

As she turned away and moved into the living room, drawing the curtains and settling down on the couch, she found herself wondering how many more rules would be broken before the night was over.


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow, thank you for the great response to the first chapter! It probably was a bit cruel to leave everything to your imaginations, and I had a few ideas, so here we go. _

_Please note the change of rating! And I hope you'll forgive me for teasing you guys a bit longer, but I did call the story 'Playing Games' for a reason...:). Enjoy x_

* * *

Gibbs leaned over, waiting for Ziva to finish her mouthful of ice cream before taking the spoon from her and putting it down on the coffee table, along with the tub that was now almost empty. Sharing the spoon had necessitated sitting close together on the sofa, since Ziva did not particularly want cookie dough dropped all over the brown cord cushions, and the feeling of his leg brushing hers had sent tingles all the way through her body. She had tried not to think too hard about the effect his hands would have on her, how she would react with his lips on hers...She certainly couldn't blame the late night sugar rush for her slightly uneven heartbeat. Every cell and every nerve felt as if it was on high alert, just waiting for the jolt of electricity, exhilaration, excitement, and, although she took care not to let it show, she felt deliciously shaky and on edge with adrenaline. Fight or flight...except that she had no intention of doing either.

Ziva watched as he checked the inside of the tub, smirking as he saw how little was left, but her defensive retort that it was at least partly his fault caught in her throat as he turned and looked at her. He was close now. Very close. His normally ice-blue eyes had darkened to an intense cobalt, and, when they fixed on hers, she found it hard to breathe.

'Did that work?'

Ziva pretended to consider for a moment, never taking her gaze from his, feeling a warmth pool in her stomach as she felt the heat from his body and saw his pulse strong underneath his jaw.

'As a relaxation technique?' She raised one eyebrow, her voice quiet and husky, her words slow. 'Worse than useless'.

'Hmm'.

Gibbs raised one hand and let his fingers casually, lightly, run down Ziva's cheekbone and underneath her chin, a slight twitch of his mouth the only indication that he had heard her sharp intake of breath.

'So what comes next on the list?'

'That depends'.

Ziva was aware of trying to keep her voice steady, of trying to breathe slowly and subdue the hammering in her chest, but the spark in Gibbs's eyes told her that she had not been very successful.

'On what?'

'On you'.

He raised one eyebrow slightly.

'Yeah, how's that?'

She met his gaze again, blue eyes burning into brown, and felt the throbbing of her heart spread down through her stomach and between her legs until it felt like her whole body was beating with heady anticipation.

'What comes next on the list is not normally for anyone else's eyes'.

It was his turn to breathe in deeply, and, through the haze of desire that was threatening to cloud her completely, Ziva felt a dim stab of satisfaction at the realisation that she was affecting him just as much as he was her.

'Normally?'

His voice was gravelly as he closed the remaining inches between them and brushed his lips along her cheek, back towards her jawbone where he took her earlobe in between his teeth and nipped gently, making her gasp.

'Never...for anyone else's eyes'. She managed to correct herself as his lips continued their delicate assault, down her neck to her collarbone.

'Want to make an exception?'

A slow, sultry smile crossed her lips as she heard his whispered question and felt his breath warm on the top of her chest.

'I thought you would never ask'.

Pulling away slightly, she reached down to the bottom of her loose tank top and slipped it over her head, revealing the simple black bra beneath. Gibbs went to stroke her skin, his breath audibly catching, but Ziva held up a hand, her eyes dark and teasing as she let the tank drop on to the sofa arm.

'For your eyes', she murmured. 'Not for your hands. Yet'.

Standing up slowly, she slid her sweatpants to the floor, and registered the low growl that came from Gibbs's throat as he leaned back against the cushions, his arousal obvious and his jaw clenched as he tried to control his breathing. Ziva could feel the wetness between her own legs, wondered how long she would be able to make him watch before it was too much for both of them, but decided the effort would be worth it. She was in control. She had the man that she wanted all to herself. And she was going to have fun.

Sitting back down on the sofa, she stretched out with her knees slightly bent, and reached behind her to unhook the bra, letting it fall on to her lap as she leant back against the arm. Never taking her eyes from Gibbs's face, she took one nipple in between her fingers and began to slowly stroke, roll, squeeze, until the pink bud was hard and dark, and she knew that he was struggling already to stay where he was. Deliberately taking her time, she moved her other hand down over her stomach, watching him shudder, his eyes fixed on her hand as her fingers played with the waistband of her black panties, making him wait before slipping her hand inside and...

She was jolted awake by the loud, harsh beeping of her alarm clock. Startled into sitting bolt upright, she reached out an arm to silence the incessant noise, but was not conscious enough to stop it coming into contact with the glass of water instead. Ziva heard the glass fall to the floor, heard the water splash, and groaned as the beeping stopped and the radio came on. One of these days, she thought savagely, she would aim right and the water would spill all over the alarm instead of the carpet.

Letting herself fall back onto the pillows, one arm slung over her still-closed eyes, she wriggled slightly as she remembered exactly what she had been dreaming about. It was variations on a theme, really. She had woken up in this state every morning for the past three days, and today made four. Four nights of frustratingly explicit dreams, two glasses of spilt water, and one bruise that was still sore from when, in a particularly graphic moment, her head had hit the back of the bed frame.

It did not help that she could remember every detail. After the first one, she was not sure that she would ever be able to look a tub of cookie dough ice cream in the face again. The second one, involving Gibbs's boat, had meant that she could not even contemplate going over to his house until the effect had worn off, not that she had planned on it anyway. And the third had made her blush when she had entered the NCIS bullpen – slightly late – the next day, and had laid eyes on her desk that had figured so prominently. Seeing Gibbs sitting calmly at his own desk had just made it worse.

And now this.

She thought back to the evening that had started it all. They had eaten the ice cream. All of it. And they had kissed. She felt heat pool in her stomach at the memory of that kiss, heated and intense and passionate but surprisingly gentle, the result of months and months of pent-up attraction. Hands had wandered, probably further than they should have done, over skin and into hair and under clothes – and then they had broken apart. He had left her apartment half an hour later.

She couldn't say whether it was herself or Gibbs that had got cold feet first, but she supposed it didn't really matter anyway. For him, she knew, it was his own rule holding him back, and the belief that work and pleasure never mixed well. And her own reason was simple enough.

Self preservation. It was a powerful motivator.

Ziva pushed back the quilt and swung her legs over the side of the bed, reaching down to pick up the glass and grimacing as her bare feet touched the soggy patch of carpet next to the small table. It was only then that she remembered it was Saturday, and that she had set the alarm in order to make it to a kick boxing session at her local gym – a session that she now didn't feel like going to. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. This was getting ridiculous. And a part of her was getting really pissed off, both with herself and with Gibbs. He might be able to carry on as if nothing had happened, but she – obviously – could not.

Enough was enough.

* * *

Gibbs's eyes snapped open, reacting to the faint noise coming from...coming from where? For a moment, he couldn't tell where he was. It was dark all around him, and he sensed that he was enclosed, without much room to move. Gradually, he became aware that he was still in the jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt that he had changed into after work the previous evening – that was, of course, assuming that it was now morning – and that the noise he could hear was the ringing of his cell phone. Judging by the strong smell of sawdust and varnish, he had actually fallen asleep underneath his boat in the basement. And other evidence suggested that, once again, he had dreamt about Ziva.

Swearing softly under his breath, he rolled over onto his back and, for the moment, chose to ignore the persistent ringtone in favour of trying to remember his dream. Slowly, it began to come back to him. Ziva. Black lace. The elevator at NCIS...

He groaned and sat upright, banging his head in the process. This was not helping. Maneuvering his way under the boat to work on the inside was difficult enough, with all the supports still in place. Getting out with a large, persistent erection pressing against his jeans was going to be even worse. And his cell was still ringing. Why didn't the damn thing go to voicemail?

Wriggling his way out carefully to avoid any more bumps, he was relieved when the noise finally stopped. According to his watch it was eight thirty in the morning – a Saturday morning – and phone calls at that sort of time never brought good news. Gibbs supposed he should ring them back, whoever they were, but decided to try and get himself together a bit first. He was breaking another rule, but what the hell. Breaking rule twelve had felt pretty damn good, and, right now, breaking rule three was pretty much a necessity. He wondered which one would be next to fall by the wayside.

Sitting down on a stool, the empty nail jar in front of him on the workbench, he thought back to the evening at Ziva's. He had never intended for it to happen. But when he had kissed her, the sensations that had rushed through him had been beyond anything he had experienced before. She was beautiful, sexy, classy...there was no doubt about that, and even now, he felt slightly breathless as he remembered the fire and passion that had driven their kisses. But he had also seen a different side to her that evening, one that he was not sure she knew she had displayed. Curled up on the sofa, eating ice cream straight from the tub and laughing at something he said, she had looked softer, younger, more vulnerable. Almost...childlike.

Gibbs had not, of course, told her that; he had been mindful of the gun still sitting on the coffee table after its earlier cleaning. But he had surprised himself with the tenderness that he had felt along with the physical excitement. It had been fear of that feeling, along with the uncertainty of breaking his own rules and the sudden look of trepidation that he had seen in Ziva's eyes, that had pushed him to leave.

He had regretted it ever since.

Being around her at work had been driving him crazy. He didn't think she was doing anything differently, but every time he saw her he was not only reminded of their evening together, but also of the fairly explicit dreams he had been having about her ever since. On more than one occasion, he had been forced to stay seated behind his desk, concentrating on reports, emails, case notes...anything except her, until the physical reaction had subsided. On top of that, he had found himself fighting something else – that same feeling of warmth and tenderness, of wanting to hold her and protect her, that had surprised him that evening in her apartment. When she had arrived slightly late for work the previous day, slightly flushed and sounding annoyed, he had felt concern rather than the irritation he would have experienced had it been DiNozzo or McGee. When she had stretched and grimaced after spending too long sitting at her computer typing up reports, he had wanted to go over and slowly massage the knots from her shoulders. And when she had given herself a paper cut, he had, absurdly enough, wanted to kiss it better.

Gibbs was pulled from his thoughts by his cell phone starting to ring again, and he sighed, standing up to retrieve it from the shelf above the workbench. The caller display read _Vance office_, and he groaned. _Vance office _could only mean a weekend case, which was the last thing that any of them needed, but he couldn't ignore it a second time. Answering the call, taking the details, ignoring the implied question as to why he hadn't picked up before...he did it all on autopilot. And as he headed up the stairs to take a quick shower and get changed before going into NCIS, Ziva was once again at the forefront of his mind.

He didn't think he could do this much longer.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing, and/or has put this on alert! I was going to wait until the weekend to upload this, but since it's a certain someone's birthday today (Happy birthday, ZC!), and my weekend is looking a little manic...well, here it is. Enjoy! _

* * *

Ziva had just stepped out of the shower when she heard the loud buzz of her cell phone coming from the pocket of her sweatshirt. After dressing for the gym earlier and getting halfway down the stairs, she had decided that she really wasn't in the mood and had headed back to her apartment instead. The gym clothes had been dumped in a pile on top of the laundry basket, which was now vibrating slightly with the insistent hum of the phone and, curious as to who would be calling on a Saturday morning when the team was not on standby, she left the shower running and dripped her way across the room. When she saw the name on the caller display, however, she had to swallow hard and take a deep breath. It seemed as if all her efforts at distracting herself were going to be in vain.

Of course, it was a case. Nothing personal. Apparently the team that was officially covering the weekend had already been called out, and so this had landed on them – although Gibbs did not explain exactly what 'this' was, and she was too busy trying to keep her voice sounding professional to think about asking. It was only when she hung up that she remembered the shower was still going, and she swore to herself. He would have heard it. Whether he would have taken that to its logical conclusion and realised that she had answered the call with nothing but a towel half-draped around her...well, too bad. Part of her hoped that he had.

Ziva dried her hair quickly, pulling on a clean pair of jeans, a baggy red jumper and a pair of flat boots to keep it casual, and made it to the office just after McGee and DiNozzo. As she perched on the edge of her desk, drinking the coffee that McGee had had the presence of mind to pick up on his way, she was aware of Gibbs standing by his own desk, wearing the same jeans and hoodie he had worn that evening at her apartment. She wondered briefly whether he had done it deliberately, but whether he had or not was immaterial. Trying to focus her mind on work was becoming very difficult, and she found her thoughts returning to her sofa, the washed-in softness of the hoodie under her hands, the hard firmness of his body beneath it...

'A missing person?'

She was startled back to reality as Gibbs took another large mouthful of coffee, and nodded at DiNozzo's incredulous expression.

'Come on. I left a box set of Magnum PI and a bag of leftover doughnuts for a missing person?'

'Not just any missing person, Agent DiNozzo. And you could have brought the doughnuts'.

Four pairs of eyes turned to the staircase to see Vance making his way down into the bullpen. He was wearing a suit even though it was the weekend, and the tired look on his face made Ziva wonder if he had been home at all since yesterday.

'Only custard ones left, Director. No one likes custard'.

'Except me. But back to the point. Captain Michael Chaney was working for the Strategic Technology Office, part of the Defence Advanced Research Projects Agency. As such, he dealt with highly sensitive, highly classified information'.

'How long has he been missing?'

Ziva was looking at Vance as she asked the question, hoping that it would force her mind to stay on the missing Captain, but she was aware of Gibbs's eyes on her, looking the red jumper up and down and then fixing very briefly on her hair before turning back to the Director. Her hair, she knew, was still slightly damp. Damn it.

'Since yesterday morning. He left home as usual, and his wife thought he was going into work, but he had actually requested a day of leave which was granted. Seems he never told her that. So it wasn't until yesterday evening, when he never came home, that she reported him missing'.

'Does she know he works for the STO?'

It was McGee who asked the question this time, and Vance nodded.

'Yes, but obviously not what he was working on. That's why she called us, and not the local cops. Sec Nav wanted to hold off an investigation until this morning in case he turned up, but he hasn't'.

She saw Gibbs raise his eyebrows at that, and Vance also noticed.

'You know as well as I do, Agent Gibbs, that ninety per cent of so-called missing people turn up of their own accord within twenty four hours. I didn't want to call in a team on a Friday night because Captain Chaney decided he wanted a couple of days to himself'.

'That likely?'

'That's for you to decide – after you've spoken to the wife'. Ziva thought she saw a brief twinkle appear in Vance's eyes before the serious look returned. 'But given the nature of what he was working on, I'd like that decision made sooner rather than later. The STO has been put on lock down, and they'll be expecting you there this morning. If there's any chance he's been compromised, we need to know'.

* * *

As Vance left the bullpen and headed back towards his office, Gibbs sighed and stretched his neck, his back protesting after the night underneath the boat. He was already finding it hard to concentrate. When he had called Ziva that morning to say they had a case, he had been sure he could hear the shower still running in the background, and had found himself wondering if she had even been dressed when she had answered the phone. The thought had made him slightly dizzy for a while, and it was not helped by the fact that, when she had walked into the bullpen and sat on the edge of her desk, he could see that her hair was still slightly wet. He had to give himself a hard mental headslap as his thoughts wandered briefly to his dream of the night before, somehow putting the black lace under the red jumper and...

Enough. He had no idea if she knew what she was doing to him, but he couldn't work like this. And he was beginning to need a good night's sleep. Draining his coffee cup and tossing it into the trash, he was aware of his team waiting expectantly for instructions and made a snap decision.

'DiNozzo, McGee – stay here and work on the background. I want everything on Chaney'.

'On it, Boss'.

'Ziva...with me'.

They had been careful not to be alone with each other at work over the past few days – he, certainly, did not trust himself – and that was the sensible thing to do. She had hesitated for a reason, and he had left her apartment for a reason. Now, though, he turned to her, his eyes issuing a subtle challenge. Or maybe it was more like a wordless invitation, one that he was fully prepared for her to refuse.

He watched as she took the last mouthful of her coffee, knew that she had understood, and for what seemed like agonizing minutes, but was probably mere seconds, he waited.

She nodded and picked up her gear bag, waiting for him to lead the way over to the elevator.

Later on, Gibbs wouldn't have been able to say with any certainty which one of them flicked the stop switch. They both reached for it at the same time, somewhere between the first and ground floors, and he felt Ziva's fingers against his as they shuddered to a halt and the lights snapped off, leaving them in near darkness. She was very close, so close that he could smell the fresh scent of her shampoo, and when he turned around she was looking up at him, making no move to back away. He knew they should be concentrating on work, knew the case should be coming first, but right now he didn't care.

'You have any idea what you've been doing to me?'

His voice was quiet, but intense, and her eyes flickered with something that he couldn't quite place. Desire. Excitement. The thrill, perhaps, of finally realising that he had not been able to just carry on as normal after he had left her apartment. He took a step closer, and felt a sharp stab of satisfaction at her intake of breath. Slowly, she moved a pace or so backwards so that she was leaning against the wall, and he followed, keeping the distance between them minimal.

'You left'.

She was making an observation rather than an accusation, and he nodded.

'Umm-hmm'.

'Why?'

'You know why'.

She nodded slowly.

Gibbs didn't know how much longer he could stand this close and not touch her, not run his hands through her hair and kiss her like he had done before. He could feel the heat from her body, could hear her breathing becoming slightly shallower, faster, and knew that that was exactly what she wanted him to do, but he didn't move. He needed to make absolutely sure this time. And besides, the restraint was a hell of a turn on.

'You let me leave'.

She inclined her head in acknowledgement, and he raised an eyebrow slightly. Her eyes, already darkening, searched his before she replied to his unspoken question.

'You know why'.

It was his turn to nod slowly.

'Changed your mind?

This time she replied without hesitation.

'Yes'.

'Me too'.

A slow smile crossed her face as she leaned her head back against the wall. He felt a rush of heat straight to his stomach, felt his jeans tightening and knew by the haze of desire that clouded her eyes that she had noticed. The confirmation that she wanted him only made his heart beat even faster.

'Then what are you waiting for?'

The tiniest of steps was enough to close the gap between them completely, and suddenly her hands were behind his head, pulling him to her. He kissed her like he had never kissed anyone before, hard, fast, almost desperate, and she responded with a passion that made him growl in his throat. He felt her tongue slip into his mouth, felt her hands under his sweatshirt, urgent, greedy in their exploration as they moved down over his chest and stomach to stroke him through his jeans.

Somewhere in the cloud of his mind, he saw that this was heading for more than either of them had intended, but he didn't have it in him to stop, even if he had wanted to.

* * *

Ziva had never been so grateful to be backed up against a wall. Without the support behind her, she wasn't sure she could have stayed upright as Gibbs finally kissed her, his lips hot and almost frantic on hers, and she knew that she was responding in the same way. She couldn't help it. Every fibre of her felt like it was crying out for more of him, and she was in no mood to try and resist.

Heat pooled in her stomach as she slipped her hands under his sweatshirt, moaning in the back of her throat as she felt the warm, hard smoothness of his skin, and she felt herself becoming wet as he moved his own hands lower, cupping the sides of her breasts through her jumper. He wanted her. Here, now. She could feel him pressing against her and she met him with equal pressure, hissing as he responded by pulling her jumper up, his hands roaming over her stomach and briefly, teasingly, down underneath the waistband of her jeans. She was dimly aware that this was not just a kiss to take the edge off, that this was probably going to fulfill one fantasy that she had not dreamt about yet, and she did not want to stop.

'Everything ok in there?'

The disembodied voice made them leap apart, breathing hard. When she looked over, the intercom was flashing. She had no idea if that meant whoever was on the other end could hear them, but the look of resigned amusement mixed with annoyance on Gibbs's face suggested not. He looked for a moment as if he was going to try and ignore it, but then reached over and pressed the button to reply.

'Fine'.

'Just you've been stuck between floors for a while'.

Ziva swallowed, pulling her jumper back down and remembering that it was Saturday. The usual maintenance and security staff during the week knew that Gibbs used the elevator as a private office, but whoever was on today obviously did not.

'Discussing work'.

'Uh…okay'.

The voice sounded slightly confused, but asked no more questions and Gibbs turned back to her, grinning at her efforts to try and pull herself together.

'Someone obviously does not know that this doubles as your conference room'.

'Soon will'.

She nodded.

'It is probably just as well'. She smiled over at him, a teasing smile as she began to see the funny side. 'We are at work, after all. And we are meant to be going to interview his wife and colleagues'.

'True'. He reached over to brush her hair back behind her ear. 'Couldn't concentrate, though'.

'Me neither'.

'So…'

Ziva took a deep breath. Unbidden, her dream from last night came into her mind. Making him watch. She closed her eyes. Making him wait. _Making him wait…_she wasn't sure she could do it.

'We should wait until the case is over'.

She heard her voice, heard the words that she did not really want to say, and opened her eyes to see him smirking. He knew fine well neither of them would wait that long. Not now.

'Not gonna happen'. He moved closer again. 'Unless you'd prefer more ice cream instead'.

She chuckled softly at his reference to her stress-busting list.

'Well, with another case on...and you do owe me. You ate most of that last tub'.

'Hmmm'. He ran his fingers down her cheek, along her jawbone to her chin. 'So next time we're in here – without any idiots interrupting - you're gonna say no in favour of cookie dough ice cream?'

She saw his smile widen at the little gasp she could not suppress, and she felt a little fizz of excitement run through her. Two could play at this game...and he didn't need to know why thinking about the ice cream made her want to blush. Not yet, anyway.

'I did not say that, exactly…..but does that mean you would rather not use a proper conference room?' She paused before continuing quietly. 'With a proper desk?'

It was her turn to smirk as she heard him hiss softly, and she reached over to flick the stop switch again. As the lights blinked on and she picked up her gear bag, she felt as she had done in her dream. Shaky, deliciously so, with pure adrenaline.

This was going to be fun.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4...and this was meant to be a oneshot! Ah well. I have to say, it's quite fun spinning this out. Enjoy!_

* * *

'The wife did it'.

DiNozzo threw his pen down on his desk and leaned back in his chair as he surveyed the room, a satisfied look on his face.

'So the case is solved then, Tony?'

'Might as well be, McWatson'.

Ziva rolled her eyes. She was tempted to ask if DiNozzo had ever actually read a Sherlock Holmes, but decided against it. She knew what the answer would be.

'What, exactly, is the wife supposed to have done?'

'Well, Zee-vah, in case you hadn't noticed, her husband is missing. And when the husband goes missing...'He shrugged. 'Twenty bucks says she's involved'.

'Twenty?' McGee winked at Ziva. 'If you had any evidence, you'd be betting more than that'.

'It's not payday til Tuesday, McMiser'.

'Won't be payday at all unless you got something, DiNozzo'.

Ziva tried to hide her smirk as Gibbs strode into the bullpen, stopping in front of the plasma screen where the Captain's photograph was up. When no one responded to the unspoken question, he turned round again, his eyebrows raised and his expression impatient.

'You waiting for an invitation?'

'We do not have anything'.

Ziva slowly pushed her chair back and walked over to the plasma, standing as close to him as she dared. When she sensed him stiffen slightly beside her, she almost smiled openly. Evidently, what had happened between them in the elevator was as fresh in his mind as it was in hers.

Somehow, due to what could only be described as a superhuman effort on both their parts, they had managed to get out, interview the Captain's colleagues and his wife, and get back without another...well, _incident_ was the only word she could think of. As they had driven towards the STO facility in Arlington, she had impishly asked if he wanted to pull over somewhere, and his growled response had made her chuckle even as it sent a little tingle down her spine.

'_Don't tempt me'. _

He had been right, of course. Two federal agents getting caught in broad daylight would not have gone down well at all. But still, the thought had kept her entertained all the way into Virginia.

Their enquiries, however, had led nowhere. None of Michael Chaney's colleagues had had anything bad to say about him – in fact none of them had really had anything to say about him at all. He seemed to keep himself to himself, preferring to keep work and home completely separate, and apart from the fact that he was exceptionally good at his job and enjoyed what he did, no one had been able to tell them anything about the man. And, unsurprisingly, they had not been allowed to ask too many questions about the specifics of his work.

Later on, at the spacious house in Falls Church that the Chaneys called home, Eleanor, his wife, had not filled in many of the gaps . She had answered their questions on the couple's personal life and social circles, but had been – or at least, had appeared to be – too upset and worried to be of much use beyond that. They had returned to the NCIS building late that afternoon, slightly frustrated in more ways than one, only to find that McGee and DiNozzo had also effectively drawn a blank. They were able to confirm what Gibbs and Ziva had found out, but could add little more in the way of new information.

Now, McGee stood up to join them in the middle of the bullpen, staring at the elusive Captain's identification photo.

'Ziva's right. According to the wife, Chaney had three credit cards on him when he left the house, the same ones he always carried. There's been no activity on any of them. Bank records show no signs of anything unusual, which would indicate that he wasn't being bribed, or selling information'.

As McGee paused for breath, DiNozzo took over.

'Abby's still working on his personal laptop. His cell is switched off, and there's been nothing on the BOLO we put out on his car. We've circulated a photo, but so far nothing's come back'.

Gibbs looked at McGee.

'Anything from...?'

McGee nodded. After Chaney's superior had refused to reveal what the Captain had been working on, Gibbs had asked McGee to work some of his magic. Or, rather, to hack into Chaney's work computer – since magic had very little to do with it.

'For a supposedly high tech R&D facility, their computer security is pretty thin...anyway. Basically Chaney was actually between research schemes right now. He wasn't involved with a project at all. And they seem to work on a need-to-know basis. If you're not involved ith a project, you don't get any of the details'.

Ziva wrinkled her brow in confusion. 'So why...?'

'Standard procedure'. Gibbs answered her question before she had even had a chance to ask it. 'STO'll be on lockdown and will assume they have a security breach until we prove otherwise. Doesn't matter that he wasn't working on anything'.

'But it looks unlikely that his work has anything to do with his disappearance'. Ziva folded her arms, thinking, before turning to McGee.

'What was his last project?'

'Minor tweaking of some systems analysis software that is already in use on certain Navy ships. Due to be rolled out to the rest of the Navy sometime next year'.

'So nothing that would warrant...'

Gibbs shook his head.

'If his disappearing act wasn't anything to do with his work, then logically...' DiNozzo paused for dramatic effect as they all turned to look at him. 'Logically it must be to do with home. I'm telling you, the wife did it'.

'Tony, will you quit with the wife?' McGee sounded tired and exasperated, and Ziva sighed, but Gibbs just turned to DiNozzo, his eyebrows raised.

'So?'

DiNozzo looked slightly baffled.

'So, uh...'

'You think the wife was involved? Prove it'.

'Prove it?'

'Yeah, DiNozzo, do the leg work'. Gibbs sounded irritated. 'Find a reason she would have wanted her husband gone'.

'You are really going to humour him?' Ziva couldn't believe it, but Gibbs just nodded, the ghost of a smile in his eyes as he looked at her.

'Nothing coming back on Chaney. Unless you got something better to do?'

Ziav's eyes widened slightly. She could think of several better things to do, all of them involving the man in front of her, and he knew it. Meanwhile, DiNozzo was looking horribly pleased with himself.

'You know what this calls for?' He made a show of rubbing his hands together. 'Pizza. I'll even pay – since I'll be collecting that twenty from probie soon enough. When it turns out the wife...'

'Go, DiNozzo'. Gibbs interrupted him, gesturing towards the elevator, and Ziva hastily sat back down at her desk.

As DiNozzo grabbed his wallet and headed out, McGee turned to Gibbs.

'Boss, is it ok if I go down and give Abby a hand with Chaney's laptop?'

Gibbs did not look round from the plasma screen.

'Yeah, go'.

As McGee's footsteps disappeared down the corridor, Ziva swallowed, and tried to focus on the information on the screen in front of her. But she found it was not easy when she and Gibbs were, once again, alone, and her teasing comments from earlier were flashing through her mind. _Proper conference room...proper desk..._

'Something on your mind, Ziva?'

* * *

Gibbs stood staring at the plasma screen for a few minutes after McGee had left. The details of the case had been going round and round in his mind all afternoon, but he was getting nowhere and it was beginning to frustrate him. Normally, if they had drawn a blank like this in a missing person case, he would have sent the team home and given it a day or so to wait and see if any new leads turned up. But, with an entire secure unit on lockdown, that time was a luxury they didn't have. DiNozzo's theory about the wife might not lead anywhere – he brought it up regularly in cases like this, and he had never been proved right before – but at least it meant that they were pursuing every angle. Gibbs just hoped that this time would be no different. If it turned out that Eleanor Chaney had been involved somehow, DiNozzo would be insufferable.

Things were not helped by the fact that, despite his best efforts, his mind kept returning to Ziva. The memory of how her lips had felt on his, of how soft and smooth her skin had felt under his hands, and knowing what would have happened if they had not been interrupted...

And now DiNozzo had left to get pizza and McGee had gone to Abby's lab. This time it hadn't been intentional. But the sudden, loud stillness in the bullpen told him that she was aware of it too.

Turning away from the screen, he saw that she was sitting back down at her desk, staring at the computer screen but not actually typing anything. Not for the first time, he was struck by how beautiful she was and he paused for a moment, just enjoying looking at her. Her dark hair was curly around her shoulders, and he smiled to himself, remembering how he had run his fingers through it earlier and feeling an almost irresistible urge to do the same thing again. Taking a pace towards her, he saw her take a deep, but silent breath, and noticed that her cheeks were slightly pink. His smile widened and, remembering her playful words from earlier in the elevator – and in the car - he decided to indulge in a little teasing of his own.

'Something on your mind, Ziva?'

She turned to face him, looking a little startled by the question before recovering herself and returning his smile.

'No, why?'

Gibbs shrugged.

'Looked a bit flushed, that's all'.

She quickly turned back to her computer, and he moved so that he was standing behind her chair. Leaning down so that his mouth was right by her ear, he smirked to himself as he felt her inhale sharply.

'That email gonna answer itself?'

He could sense her heart beating harder as he drew closer, thought he could almost hear it underneath her jumper, and he felt his own pick up speed a little. Not touching her was taking every bit of self-control he possessed, but he held back. For now.

'None of my emails are going to be answered at all while you are standing there and I am thinking about elevators and conference desks'.

He chuckled softly. He could feel the heat coming from her body, knew that standing this close to her was driving her crazy. Lifting his hand, he gently brushed her hair back off one shoulder. The slight touch was enough to make her gasp, and he felt a rush of warmth go straight through his stomach as he saw her chest rising and falling rapidly. His voice dropped to a soft growl as he deliberately allowed his lips to tickle her ear.

'Your desk is nearer'.

* * *

Ziva let out an involuntary hiss as she felt his lips on her ear, heard his whispered words, and closed her eyes briefly against the images that flashed in front of them.

'_Your desk is nearer_'.

Holy hell.

He wouldn't...would he?

She couldn't help a deep, shuddering breath as his lips moved down to the side of her neck, the skin exposed when he had moved her hair back, and without thinking about it she tilted her head slightly to give him more room. She felt him smile as he slowly, but lightly, kissed the spot just below her earlobe. Her whole body seemed to be humming with need, and she knew that he sensed it, even before he moved his lips down to the point where her pulse was racing. His hands, resting on the arms of her chair, were tantalisingly close. Part of her was screaming silently for him to touch her, while at the same time she didn't know if she could stand it. Not without...

She gasped as he nipped her earlobe gently with his teeth, squeezed her eyes shut more tightly in a vain attempt to control the sensations flooding through her, and, as his tongue flicked the most sensitive spot beneath her ear, had to clench her jaw to stop herself moaning out loud. The sharp tingle shot straight down between her legs, and she squirmed a little but the movement only made it worse. She could suddenly feel the wetness, could feel the throbbing that was keeping time with her heartbeat, and, somewhere in the back of her mind, wondered how on earth he had got her into this state by just kissing her neck.

'Jethro...'

His name came out as a strangled whisper, and he pulled back slightly. For a few seconds of agonising relief, she thought he was going to stop, but then she felt his hand move her hair again and his mouth on the other side of her neck, and she found herself gripping the edge of her desk. He was merciless. Light kisses alternated with gently sharp nips on the sensitive skin, until she could hardly breathe and her knuckles were white on the table in front of her from the effort of holding herself back. This was torture, pure and delicious, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could take it.

'Jethro, please...'

She felt him smile against her again, felt his breath hot against her ear as he murmured through the kisses.

'Please what?'

'Please...'

Ziva couldn't articulate anything else. She knew that he could tell how close she was, would know that she was allowing herself to be entirely at his mercy...at that moment, her body wasn't giving her a choice. Another graze of his teeth on her ear, and she could feel her muscles start to tighten, could feel the pulsing dampness in between her thighs. His hands had never even touched her.

* * *

Gibbs nipped the soft lobe of Ziva's ear with his teeth once more, hearing her moan in the back of her throat as he did so. The sound made his heart beat faster, and he could feel his own arousal growing. He had known that she wanted him, but when she had whispered his name, her voice had betrayed just how turned on she was. The thought that he could bring her to a climax without even touching her with his hands sent a jolt of satisfied excitement through him, and he was almost shocked at how much he was enjoying this. Teasing her, playing with her, being totally in control and knowing that she was allowing him to be...

He smiled as he slowly pulled back and heard her moan in protest. She was breathing hard, sitting very still now, and he knew that if he were to slip his hand down the front of her jeans he would find her soaking wet and on the verge of a release that had been building ever since they had left the elevator. He had to exercise every last shred of willpower not to do exactly that, but to step backwards towards his own desk, watching her as she opened her eyes and released her grip on her desk. As she turned to face him, he couldn't help a slightly triumphant smile.

She was struggling to get her breathing under control, her eyes so dark they were almost black, and her face was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that she wasn't even trying to hide. Gibbs could see her struggling not to reach out and pull him back to finish what he had started, could see the desire and the need still etched clearly, but at the same time knew that she was probably swearing at him in her mind, calling him every English and Hebrew name she could think of. He laughed softly as she let out a hiss, and shook her head. He knew he would pay for this, and he found he was looking forward to it.

'Later'.

Her eyes met his as the ping of the elevator door and the smell of pizza announced DiNozzo's return, and he saw a flash of something in her eyes as she nodded, her mouth curving briefly in a slow smile.

'Later'.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you for all the reviews for the last chapter! Had an unexpected day off this week so...next one's up. It's a bit longer than others. I did try and split it, but there was only one place it would have worked - and if I'd left it there I think I would have got the online equivalent of a sackful of hate mail. So grab a cup of something (or a glass of ice water), settle back and enjoy!_

* * *

'So these are the wife's bank records?'

Gibbs watched as Vance studied the list of financial transactions that now graced the plasma screen, chewing on a toothpick after helping himself to the last slice of now-cold pizza.

'Yes, sir', McGee nodded. 'They had a joint account, which she told us – told Gibbs and Ziva – about, but she also had one of her own'.

'Which she did not mention', Ziva interjected.

'It's in her maiden name, which is why it took us a bit longer to find'. McGee pointed to the screen. 'But look. Twentieth of April, a charge to Virginia Beach hotel and spa. The same again three weeks later. And again two weeks after that. All for overnight stays with a double room'.

'Chaney's colleagues said that the day he disappeared was the first day of leave he had taken in months'. Ziva stood up to stand beside McGee. 'And these charges are all for midweek stays. She could not have been going there with her husband. I have called the hotel, but the only name on the bookings was hers'.

'So you think she was having an affair?'

Gibbs leaned back against his desk as Vance turned to him with the question, and shrugged his shoulders.

'Gonna bring her in tomorrow and find out'.

'Hmmm'. The Director nodded slowly, and contemplated the screen again for a moment before looking at his watch.

'It's late. And that's good work. Go home and get some rest, follow this up in the morning'.

No one moved, and Vance raised an eyebrow.

'I've never had to tell agents twice to go home'.

Gibbs smirked. He was aware of DiNozzo and McGee looking at him expectantly, waiting for his say-so before they packed up their gear...and he was also aware of Ziva, still looking at the plasma to avoid looking at him. Their exchange from earlier flashed into his mind. _Later. _It seemed that 'later' might have finally arrived.

'You heard him'. He pushed himself up off the desk, and walked around to sit back down in his chair. 'Go'.

This time DiNozzo and McGee did not need telling again. As they gathered their jackets and gear bags, however, DiNozzo paused.

'Ziva? You coming?'

Gibbs deliberately looked down at the open folder on his desk, but felt his heart give a little thud as he heard her reply.

'No, I have a couple of things I want to check on first. You go ahead, I will see you tomorrow'.

'Agent Gibbs?'

Vamce was gazing down at him, his expression inscrutable.

'That meant you too'.

'Yeah, won't be long, Leon'.

'Hmmm'. Vance looked as if he didn't believe a word, but turned to head back up the stairs. 'Agent David? Make sure he goes home sometime this side of midnight'.

Gibbs heard the slightest hint of amusement in Ziva's voice as she nodded.

'I will try'.

The sharp ping of the elevator signaled DiNozzo and McGee's departure as Vance disappeared back into his office and shut the door - apparently the command to go home had not applied to him as well, and Gibbs wondered if he was planning on sleeping at all this weekend. But still. That wasn't for him to worry about. He closed the folder with a snap, and leaned back in his chair.

'Alone again'.

Ziva had moved to stand in front of his desk and, meeting her gaze, he felt a jolt of excitement rush through him. He had forced down the thrill, the heady satisfaction from earlier, but now it all came flooding to the surface again as he took in her dark, intense eyes and the hint of a smile playing around her lips. He had never experienced anything quite like the rush of heat that hit his stomach as he recalled, with perfect clarity, the way she had responded to his kisses, how aroused it had made him when she had whispered his name, practically begging for him to touch her and give her the release she had been wanting – needing – all day. He would never know where he had found the willpower to step back, to bring her to the brink and then withdraw, but it had been worth it. Now, as he watched her, as he saw the fiery spark in her eyes and felt his jeans tightening slightly once more, he wondered whether they would be able to even make it home.

'Not quite alone'. He nodded in the direction of Vance's office, and she inclined her head in acknowledgement before letting her gaze wander from his face, down his chest until the desk prevented her eyes from going any further.

'Well, it is ten forty-five. Everyone else has gone. You heard what the Director said?'

'Umm-hmm'. Gibbs reached into his desk drawer for his keys, and dangled them from one finger as he looked up at her. 'Want a lift?'

She smirked as she placed both palms flat on the desk and leaned over, her face close to his and one eyebrow raised as her eyes flickered downwards.

'You are planning on leaving now?'

'Why, you got a better idea?'

She chuckled softly as she stood upright, and Gibbs felt another powerful thud of arousal as he heard her murmured reply.

'Oh, I have several'.

She reached across and plucked the keys from his finger.

'But maybe it is not such a bad idea'. She looked down again. 'Since it may take us a while to get anywhere'.

* * *

Ziva's heart was pounding as she closed her front door softly behind her, and slowly, deliberately, locked it and turned to face Gibbs. Part of her could not quite believe she was doing this...but then that same part had not quite been able to believe what happened earlier either. And yet, judging from the physical reaction that was still making itself felt, that had been amazingly, wonderfully real.

He had teased her, played with her, made her tremble and writhe with need, had her begging for his touch, brought her to the brink and then brought her back again. Now he was standing in front of her, so close that she could hear his shallow breathing. She could feel the heat coming from his body and could sense how much he wanted her. Feeling slightly breathless already, she wondered once more how it was that he could affect her this way. It seemed that he did not have to do much more than stand next to her for her body to take on a mind of its own.

'Ziva?'

His voice was low, urgent, as she reached out and ran a hand down his chest, feeling his heart beating hard and fast through his sweatshirt and allowing herself a sharp, satisfied intake of breath as he swallowed.

'Yes?'

'Are you...?'

He broke off as Ziva slipped her hand underneath the hoodie once more, and she felt a rush of warmth to her stomach as she stroked the hard muscles of his chest underneath her fingers. She knew what he had been about to ask. Whether she was sure, whether she really wanted this here, now...

Without giving him a chance to continue, she closed the tiny gap between them and kissed him. It was hard, forceful, passionate, and after a couple of seconds she felt him respond, felt his arms wrap around her back as she pressed into him. His tongue flicked into her mouth before pulling back, teasing her once more, and she let her hands wander lower, hungrily exploring just as they had done earlier. This time, though, she knew that they would not be interrupted. And this time she had no intention of stopping.

She felt him gasp into her mouth as her fingers made light work of his belt buckle, and, as she slipped her hand inside to grasp him, heard it turn to a low growl in the back of his throat. The sound sent a little shockwave straight down to the gathering wetness between her thighs, and she slowly pulled back a little from the kiss, breathing hard.

'Does that answer your question?'

His eyes were a dark, clouded blue, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he moved his hands up to her shoulders and then to her face, tangling them in her hair and stroking her cheeks with his palms.

'Yeah. Guess it does'.

'Good'.

She smiled slowly, savouring his reaction.

Now it was her turn.

* * *

Gibbs wasn't sure how, precisely, they had got back to Ziva's home. Avoiding the elevator and taking the stairs instead, they had reached the NCIS car park and she had tossed him back his keys. There was no question of her not coming with him, no thought given to the fact that leaving together tonight meant that they would have to arrive together the next day. The morning would sort itself out when it came. But still, he had raised his eyebrows in a silent question, and she had smiled as she climbed into the passenger seat of his truck.

'_Anywhere you want'. _

Hands had started wandering before he had even started the engine, and as he had turned in the direction of Ziva's apartment instead of his house, she had leaned over and nipped his ear.

'_Shame. I was hoping to see if my dream about your boat worked in real life'. _

He had almost crashed the truck into a parked car. And his response, when he managed one, had made her chuckle in a way that just made him even more aroused.

'_Splinters'. _

Once they actually made it up the stairs and into the living room, he knew that there was no way of going back now even if either of them had wanted to. And the way that she had just kissed him convinced him, finally, that this was exactly what she wanted and that, like him, she had wanted it for months.

Letting his hands wander through her hair and over her face, breathing hard from kissing her, he felt her lifting up the bottom of his hoodie and, stepping back slightly, he reached down and pulled it and the t-shirt over his head. The low hum of appreciation that came from her throat as her eyes roamed over his chest and stomach made his jeans suddenly uncomfortably tight, and the satisfied smile on her face told him that she had noticed. Kicking off his shoes, he pulled her towards him once more, but this time she resisted, and her whispered explanation made him take a sharp, deep breath.

'My turn'.

He couldn't take his eyes off her as she ran her hands down his chest again, and, as she moved forward slightly, felt the heat of her mouth following the trail of her fingers down towards his stomach. His heart was beating almost painfully hard, and he was sure that he could hear it over his ragged breathing and the low moan that escaped from Ziva as she reached the waistband of his jeans. He realised what she was going to do, tried to prepare himself for it since he couldn't stop her and yet, when she slowly pulled down the zip and freed his erection, the feel of her tongue running slowly, deliciously slowly, from base to tip almost sent him over the edge. And when she repeated the action, this time with her fingers following her lips, he couldn't help the harsh growl that came from somewhere in his throat.

'Ziva...'

He felt her smile against him, and knew that this was exactly what he had done to her earlier. Made her hot and breathless and needy with desire. Made her beg. He had known she would get revenge, but...Jesus. Revenge could apparently be sweet even when you were on the receiving end.

'Umm-hmmm?'

'Just...'

She paused in her stroking to look up at him, a wicked glint in her eye.

'Just what?'

Before he could answer, she bent her head again and this time, without warning, took him into her mouth. He couldn't watch her anymore, but had to close his eyes as her tongue and her lips swirled, licked, caressed the sensitive tip, lapping up the salty dampness already there and making him shudder with the effort of not moving. Time seemed to stop, but it was probably only minutes before he gave in and reached down to run his fingers through her hair. He tried not to push himself deeper, but almost cried out when she took him further in and he felt the gentle graze of her teeth. He was close. Too close. Forcing himself to move his hands to her shoulders, he gently tugged until, with one last lick, she pulled back a little and allowed him to draw her to her feet. When he saw that she was breathing almost as hard as he was, her dark eyes glazed with desire and her lips wet, he didn't think he had ever felt a rush of longing and need quite like it.

'Your turn's over'.

* * *

Ziva heard his words, heard the deep growl of hunger in his voice, and felt a tingle run through her even as she fought the urge to bend down again and take him until he came in her mouth. That she wanted him in that way had surprised her – she never normally enjoyed it that much – but the taste of him, the feel of him against her face, had aroused her more than she thought possible. And now he wanted her. He was back in control.

Slowly, before he could reach for it himself, she pulled her jumper over her head, dropping it on the floor and feeling a hot surge between her thighs as his eyes rested on her breasts and the black lace bra that covered them. She felt him take hold of her shoulders again, pushing her gently backwards until the sofa was behind her and she sat down on the edge of the cushion, watching as he parted her legs slightly and knelt down in front of her. As he reached around her back and slowly unhooked the bra, Ziva found it hard to breathe. Her heart was hammering, and her whole body felt like it was throbbing with hot, needy anticipation. He knew exactly what he was doing, and, once again, it was driving her crazy.

She felt him close, felt his breath on her nipple and felt it harden under his gaze as he paused, as if considering where he wanted to start. When it came, the flick of his tongue was light and sharp at the same time; it made her shudder and arch against him, made her reach for him, seeking more, but her moan of pleasure was cut short as he withdrew. Ignoring her whimper of protest at the loss of contact, he took her hands away from him and pinned them gently but firmly to the cushion of the sofa behind her, making her understand in no uncertain terms that he had meant it when he said her turn was over. She felt the heat of her arousal growing, felt herself throbbing and aching with desire. She had never let anyone else take control of her like this. But, with Gibbs, it was the biggest turn on she had ever experienced.

Finally, as if to reward her for her patience, he turned his attention to her other breast, and she leaned her head back as his mouth first caressed, and then nipped the tender bud. His hands moved round her back, down her stomach, to the button of her jeans, and she looked up as his lips left her skin once more. Shifting slightly to allow him to pull her jeans and panties down, she felt his mouth follow his hands, planting light kisses all the way down her stomach until he reached her hips.

She didn't resist as he gently pushed her backwards so that she was leaning across the sofa, allowed him to lift her right leg across his shoulder and move the other one away, up onto the coffee table behind him, to give him more room to...

_Oh, dear God. _

Ziva gasped, moaned and struggled to breathe all at the same time as she felt his tongue slip inside her folds and over the most sensitive part of her body. As he picked up speed, she had to use every last drop of willpower not to arch her hips against him, clenching her jaw to stifle the loud groans that escaped her as he lavished attention on the pulsing, hardening bundle of nerves. She felt him move slightly, felt his fingers slide inside her, keeping time with his mouth, curving slightly to catch the spot that would drive her mad – _how the hell did he know...? – _but, as he pulled back slightly to catch his breath and to run his thumb over where his mouth had just been, she lifted herself back up. She couldn't take any more of this. She needed him inside her, now. Right now.

'Jethro...'

She could barely speak. Her breath came in ragged gasps and she could see that his eyes were glazed over, his lips still parted and glistening with her wetness. Fortunately, he seemed to understand and, lifting her leg off his shoulder, he stood up, kicking off his jeans and straddling her as she moved sideways to lie along the length of the sofa.

'Do I need to...?'

Once again, she knew what he was asking and shook her head, but still he hesitated. She realised that he was waiting for her, waiting for a final confirmation and, nodding slightly, felt him finally give in and push himself into her.

Silence.

As she stared into his eyes, she saw his mouth drop open in a noiseless gasp and knew hers was doing the same, the sensations almost overwhelming. But neither of them had any patience left.

Without giving her the chance to adjust, he began to move inside her and she matched his rhythm, thrust for thrust, her hips rising to meet his to take him deeper, harder. Her entire universe felt like it had shrunk to the feel of him inside her, the sound of his low growl in her ear, and the feel of his hands entwined with hers as they both moved swiftly towards a release that had been building for a very, very long time.

She felt the pressure mount higher and higher, felt him move faster and faster, and when it finally came it was so powerful, so all-consuming that she had to bury her scream in his shoulder as she convulsed around him, forcing him over the edge with her. She felt him thrust once more before he filled her over and over again until there was nothing left and he sagged against her, his face buried in her hair and her arms wrapped around his back as she gripped him, shaking and still breathless from the force of it.

It took a while before Ziva was able to sit up, gently moving him off her so that she could see him properly. He looked like she felt. Satisfied, completely spent, hot and still a little dizzy. But what struck her most was the expression in his eyes as he returned her gaze. Exhaustion mixed with such tenderness and affection that it almost took her breath away again, and she stood up and reached out a hand, not able to articulate her need for him to stay but finding that, once more, she did not have to.

Taking her hand and standing up, he allowed her to lead him to bed.

* * *

Gibbs awoke just before dawn, not entirely sure for a moment where he was. He was in bed – not his bed, though – and the chest of drawers was in the wrong place. But then he felt something, or someone stir beside him, and smiled to himself in the darkness. Ziva.

It had been incredible. But more than that, he had felt truly close to her. It had been intimate in a way he would never have imagined, and, when she had held out a hand to ask him to stay, he knew that she had felt the same. He had never had any intention of leaving anyway, but to know that she really didn't want him to...

He shifted slightly. She had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder, and his arm was now beginning to protest. Gently, he began to move, trying not to wake her, but she rolled over and he realised that she too had woken up.

'Sorry', he whispered, reaching out a hand to stroke her hair, and she turned back over to snuggle into him as he slipped the arm around her.

'Two rules in one night'.

Her murmured observation made him chuckle. She was right, but, as he took her hand in his and pressed it to his chest, he found he didn't care.

He didn't know how long they lay like that before the harsh ringing of his cell phone intruded. He had half been expecting it, but it still made him groan as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, kissing Ziva's bare shoulder before he padded through to the living room to find the phone in amongst the small piles of clothing still scattered about the floor. When he finally located it, he was not surprised at the name flashing up. Vance. Again.

The conversation was short. When he returned to the bedroom, Ziva was propped up on her elbows and the bedside lamp was on, casting a soft glow over the feminine furnishings and highlighting the darkness outside. Despite the sudden intrusion of reality, he had to stop for a moment, letting his eyes drink in the sight in front of him. He didn't think he had ever seen anyone look so beautiful.

'Who was that?'

'Vance'. He moved to sit down on the side of the bed as he replied, reaching out a hand to stroke her cheek and smiling as she turned to catch his palm with her lips.

'Chaney's turned up'.

'Where?'

She was instantly on alert, and he couldn't help but admire the sudden switch. It was one that he wished neither of them had to make.

'Rock Creek Park'.

He paused for a moment before taking a deep breath and correcting himself.

'Buried in Rock Creek Park'.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you for all the reviews / follows etc from the last chapter! Ice water / ice cubes / cold showers shouldn't be necessary after this one...think we all needed to cool off a bit ;). _

_Hope you enjoy!x_

* * *

'Got a time of death yet, Duck?'

Ducky looked up at Gibbs, a wry smile on his face as he settled himself next to the prone body of Michael Chaney.

'The dead speak to me, Jethro, but give the poor man a chance. Mr Palmer, would you, uh...'

'Of course'. Jimmy reached over and handed Ducky a liver probe, and Gibbs sighed, pulling his jacket closer around him in the cold, early morning sunlight. He was used to this, had seen it hundreds of times before and would no doubt see it again. But each time, it depressed him slightly to see first hand the lengths that some human beings would go to in order to hurt another. This time was no exception.

Michael Chaney had been buried in a shallow grave in a clearing at the south end of the park, well off the marked trail but just five hundred meters from the entrance. An intrepid Jack Russell – and a far less courageous owner – had discovered the body, and Gibbs cast an eye over to where DiNozzo and Ziva were interviewing the now-terrified looking man. Why anyone would be walking a dog at four in the morning was beyond him, but still. That was for the two agents to find out. Cause of death was fairly obvious – several blows to the head and face had rendered Chaney almost unrecognisable, and they had only been able to positively identify him using the portable fingerprint scanner.

Gibbs smirked as he saw DiNozzo take a pace backwards, trying to avoid the yapping dog which looked perilously close to escaping from its owner's arms. He couldn't hear what Ziva was saying, but, taking a minute to watch her at work with her partner, was shocked at the feelings that rushed through him and which he couldn't immediately identify. Lust, certainly. After last night, that was inevitable. Tenderness. He was beginning to get used to that one now, as well. But the slight jealousy at watching her with DiNozzo, and the feeling of possessiveness, of wanting to go over and slip his arm around her shoulder in front of everyone – those he hadn't been expecting. Damn it.

'Jethro? Are you with us?'

He turned to see Ducky looking up at him once more from his kneeling position, and he nodded, squatting down next to the medical examiner and gesturing to Chaney's body.

'So?'

'Time of death was around forty to forty eight hours ago. I'm afraid I can't be more specific than that here. We'll have to wait until Miss Sciuto has worked some of her magic on those maggots'.

Gibbs didn't flinch as Ducky gestured to the creatures crawling around in a specimen jar.

'Cause of death?'

Ducky raised his eyebrows.

'I think the technical term would be...well'. He gestured to the mess that had once been Chaney's head.

'That what killed him?'

Ducky nodded.

'On first examination, yes. Blunt force trauma to the head. But, as usual, I make no promises until I get him back to autopsy. Timothy?'

McGee came over from where he had been photographing the clearing, his footsteps crunching over the dried leaves and twigs that covered the ground.

'I'm finished for the time being if you want to start here'.

'Sure'.

Gibbs rose to his feet as the camera started to flash, capturing Chaney's last resting place in harsh, bright detail, and sighed. DiNozzo and Ziva had finished with the dog-walker, and, with no other witnesses that they knew of, it wouldn't be long before they could head back to NCIS again. And then the real work would begin.

Despite that, he had to try to suppress a smile as he watched the two agents make their way over the clearing towards him. Dawn had broken as he and Ziva had left her apartment and, with typically bad timing, they had arrived at the office at the same time as DiNozzo. To give him some credit, DiNozzo hadn't asked outright. But, as soon as he thought Gibbs was out of earshot, he had given Ziva the third degree.

'_You and Gibbs arriving together?'_

'_My car would not start last night, Tony'. Ziva sounded irritated. 'Gibbs very kindly gave me a ride home, and offered to pick me up again this morning'._

'_What was wrong with it?'_

'_I am not a mechanic, Tony. I will call the breakdown people later'. _

Gibbs wondered if she had given any thought as to what she would say later when – presumably – her car would start first time.

* * *

'For an insomniac, you seem to be doing a lot of yawning'.

The man who had found the body – Jake Myers – glared at DiNozzo, even as he stifled another yawn and gripped the struggling dog a bit tighter. He was sitting in the back of the NCIS van by the open doors, and Ziva couldn't help smirking slightly as DiNozzo took a small pace backwards. He was not really a dog kind of person.

'Yeah, well, finding a dead body kind of takes it out of you. Maybe they should market it as a cure'.

This time it was DiNozzo's turn to glare at the younger man, and Ziva quickly stepped in.

'So, just to uh, confirm...you were walking your dog in the middle of the night because you could not sleep?'

Myers sighed.

'Yes'.

Ziva refrained from asking whether he had had to wake the dog up.

'And this is where you usually walk?'

'Yes. I live ten minutes away. It's handy'.

'And your dog came across the body...?'

'Bilbo started barking and wouldn't stop. I followed him, and tripped over...well, I think it was an arm. So I called the police. For some reason, they called you. Look, do you need me here much longer? I am really tired now'.

'No'. Ziva snapped her notepad shut. 'But it looks as if Bilbo has woken up'.

Myers looked as if he was about to try and make a smart-ass reply, but thought better of it and sighed again instead, remaining silent as Ziva turned around and looked over the clearing. It wasn't the most hospitable of places to die. If, indeed, Chaney had died here.

She let her eyes wander until they rested on Gibbs, who was kneeling down next to Ducky. Despite where they were and what they were doing, she felt a delicious shiver run through her as memories of the night came flooding back. Usually she found that reality did not match up to the fantasy, but with Gibbs it had been...well. She had never imagined it could be like that. Waking up with him, even under the not-quite-ideal circumstances, had felt special. And watching him now, she felt like she wanted it all over again. More than that, she felt like she _needed_ it. Needed him.

Damn it.

This was not supposed to happen.

'Earth to Ziva'.

She blinked as DiNozzo waved a hand in front of her face, and swore to herself again. The last thing she wanted was another twenty questions.

'Sorry?'

'I said I think we're done here'. He gestured to where Myers was making his way out towards the entrance to the park, still carrying the dog. 'Bilbo. What kind of a name is that for a dog?'

Ziva knew he didn't really expect an answer, and so didn't bother. Uncharacteristically, she let him mutter on until they had reached the other agents at the far end of the clearing - as long as he was distracted, and not thinking about the fact that he had caught her staring at Gibbs while daydreaming, that was fine with her.

'He didn't know anything, Boss'. DiNozzo squinted down at Chaney's body. 'The dog found the body, he just followed the dog. Apparently he has insomnia – the man, that is, not the dog - hence the trip out in the wee small hours'.

Gibbs inclined his head in acknowledgement, and Ziva took a deep breath. He wasn't doing anything. But, it seemed, he didn't have to. Standing next to him, she found herself fighting the urge to just lean against him and feel his arms around her again. That would have been enough...for now. And even that was totally inappropriate at a crime scene.

'So, you still want us to bring the wife in?'

Gibbs nodded in answer to McGee, and Ducky looked slightly surprised.

'I don't think a woman could have done this, Jethro. It would have taken real strength, and force...I doubt whether a woman would be capable'.

DiNozzo cleared his throat, and Ziva realised he was looking pointedly at her.

'That could be up for deb...ow!'

He grimaced as Ziva's hand met Gibbs's at the same time, and at the same point on the back of his head, and Ducky chuckled.

'Great minds, and all that...but it is unlikely'.

'Still need to talk to her, Duck'.

Ducky nodded, and motioned for Jimmy to fetch the gurney.

'Well, I will be able to tell you more later'.

'Yeah, thanks'.

As Ducky and Jimmy attended to the body, DiNozzo turned hopefully to Gibbs.

'So...'

'So you and Ziva go and pick up the wife. McGee, bag and tag anything that's left'.

Ziva groaned quietly. The prospect of sitting in a car with a gloating DiNozzo all the way out to Falls Church was not exactly an enticing one, especially now that the late night and early morning were beginning to catch up with her. She saw Gibbs turn to her as she smothered a yawn with her hand, his blue eyes twinkling. _Blue eyes. Ah, hell..._

'Keeping you awake, Agent David?'

_You certainly did._

She knew she shouldn't. But she couldn't resist.

'Sorry. I did not sleep well, strange dreams. Something about a truck, I think. And ice cream'.

She was absurdly gratified to see the little warning light in his eyes as he swallowed. Hard. And even the sound of DiNozzo's reaction faded into the background as she allowed herself a small, triumphant smile.

'You were dreaming about ice cream in this freezing weather?'

* * *

Three hours later, Ziva was standing in the small observation room, watching Eleanor Chaney on the other side of the glass. After some fairly theatrical hysterics – which, Ziva supposed, were only to be expected since she had just been told her husband had been murdered – she had come with them quietly back to NCIS. Too quietly. Ziva wondered whether she was in shock, or whether she knew that they had found something that they needed her to explain. Either way, it was slightly unnerving. She barely even looked up as DiNozzo and McGee entered the room to begin the interrogation.

Ziva sighed, and ran a hand over her eyes as DiNozzo sat in the seat opposite Eleanor, and McGee remained standing in the corner of the room. It was a tried and tested routine. Good cop, bad cop. McGee, unsurprisingly, always played good cop – bad cop didn't really suit him however hard he worked at it. They all seemed to be watching and waiting as DiNozzo took his time, opening the folder in front of him and rifling through it, getting himself comfortable...Ziva began to wish she had had the foresight to get some coffee before the show began. She was starting to wonder whether to just go and get one anyway, when she heard the door to the observation room open and close quietly behind her. Her heart gave a little thud, and she didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

'You do realise that if Tony is right about her, I will never hear the end of it?'

She sensed him smile as he came to stand close behind her right shoulder, so close that she could feel his sweatshirt brushing against her back. If she just leaned back ever so slightly...instead, she took the takeout cup of coffee that was being held in front of her, and murmured her thanks.

'None of us will'.

They stood in silence for a while, drinking their coffees and listening to the questions being fired at Eleanor Chaney in the interrogation room. _Can you explain this? Where were you Friday between eight in the morning and three in the afternoon? Who were you going to Virginia Beach with? Because we know it wasn't your husband. _And then, from McGee – _we can't help you unless you help us. _

'Do you think she is guilty?'

She felt Gibbs shrug.

'She's hiding something'.

'Hmm'.

Ziva threw the empty coffee cup into the trash and, as she did so, became aware of his hand on the small of her back and his lips close to her ear. She swallowed hard, feeling the now-familiar tingle running down her spine and the pool of heat hitting her stomach, and cursed him silently for having this effect on her even as she shifted backwards slightly onto his hand. His fingers, soothing and exciting at the same time, began rubbing small circles through her jumper until all she wanted to do was to lean her head on his chest, close her eyes and let the sensations wash over her.

'_Mrs Chaney, I am a patient guy. I really am. But even I am getting pissed off here because, believe it or not, I have better things to do with my Sunday than play guess-the-lover. So, for the last time, who were you going to the spa with and did your husband know about it?'_

His hand had slipped underneath her jumper now, his fingers still tracing circles on her skin. She felt him increase the pressure slightly as he worked up and down her lower back, thumb on one side of her spine and fingers on the other, massaging and kneading and stroking, and, once again, the force of her body's reaction took her by surprise. She didn't think she had ever felt anything like the waves of pure, agonising pleasure that began rippling out from underneath his hand, spreading to every part of her and making her clench her jaw so that she didn't moan and beg for more out loud. She had wanted this all morning. Wanted him...she wondered if he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She had never expected to feel like this.

'We need to talk'.

Ziva stiffened slightly at his words, whispered into her ear as his hand continued to move gently up and down. She knew he was right. They did need to talk, because this was rapidly turning into more than she had ever intended. He was sending her haywire.

But not here, and not now.

Not yet.

* * *

Gibbs hadn't been able to help touching her. He had wanted to all morning, so badly that it was almost like a physical ache. But, when he had gently, lightly, started rubbing her back, he had not been prepared for the way she had leaned against him, her body telling him clearly that she had wanted the same thing. That she had wanted him.

'_Why the secrecy, Mrs Chaney? Everyone has affairs. And there's no one to hide it from now...unless he's married too?'_

Now, he could feel the slight tension in the way she held herself, and, before he could stop or think too much about what he was doing, he slipped his hand underneath her jumper so that there was nothing in between them. Feeling her shiver under his touch sent a rush of gratification through him and, as he gradually worked his way up and down her back, he placed his free hand on her shoulder to hold her still. He could tell he was arousing her even as he soothed her, and he found himself wanting to turn her around and kiss her, to hold her tight before...

'We need to talk'.

He whispered the words in her ear, suddenly overcome with the need to know exactly what she wanted. Whether she was feeling the same emotional turmoil as he was, and whether this was sending her all to hell like it was him. From her reactions, he guessed the answer was probably yes. But he needed to be sure.

Gibbs felt her stiffen against him, and, as she turned slightly, saw the trepidation in her eyes. He didn't let go of her, but increased the pressure once more with his hand so that his fingers were working deep into the muscle either side of her spine. His other hand began doing the same on her shoulder, calming and comforting, but still making her tremble slightly as she took a deep breath.

As she opened her mouth to speak, he let his lips graze her ear and she gasped quietly, the words dying in her throat.

'Last night'. He murmured softly into the same ear, never easing up on the slow massage. 'Not a one time thing'.

There was a heavy pause before she shook her head. The movement was slight, her eyes closed briefly against the emotion that suddenly filled the tiny room, but he didn't miss the flicker that crossed her face.

She was scared.

Nervous.

Excited.

And relieved that he wanted this as much as she did. That he hadn't told her it had to end.

That flicker of expression had told him everything he needed to know.

'_Daniel Gilbert'. _

The name, gasped out between sobs from the other side of the glass, propelled both of them back to reality, and Gibbs paused his fingers, standing upright as Ziva's eyes snapped open.

'_Your husband's supervisor?'_

Suddenly Eleanor Chaney looked exhausted, defeated, broken, and Gibbs felt a sinking feeling. He had seen that look before and, as the woman nodded, he knew. He didn't need to hear her next words to confirm it.

'_He...we... Daniel said if we made it look like it was to do with his work...he put in the leave request, told me to make sure Michael was home and I was out. He did it. By the time I got home the bo-...Michael was gone. Daniel said I should ring you, it would look less suspicious. He put the unit on lockdown'._

It seemed that once Eleanor started, she couldn't stop.

'_Michael wouldn't give me a divorce. And we wanted the life insurance. We wanted a new life'. _

Gibbs felt Ziva blow out a long, slow sigh, her body leaning once more against his as the implication of Eleanor Chaney's confession sunk in.

'I will never...'. She paused, shaking her head.

She didn't need to finish.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you for all the follows etc from the last chapter! This one was meant to be the last one, but after umm-ing and ahh-ing around for a bit, I decided to split it. So there will be one more after this, which will be a much shorter, epilogue-style chapter. I will try and remember to post it before I go away next week - holiday brain seems to have kicked in a bit early...;). _

_Enjoy! _

* * *

Ziva lasted until precisely five forty-six in the afternoon.

By that time, it had been seven hours and sixteen minutes since Eleanor Chaney's confession, seven hours and fourteen minutes since DiNozzo's first triumphant smirk, and six hours exactly since she had first started wondering whether to ask Abby's advice on murdering someone and leaving no forensic evidence. The car journey out to Arlington, where they had picked up Daniel Gilbert and taken the STO unit off lockdown, had been like a form of slow torture and, ironically, it was only because she was concentrating on driving that DiNozzo had survived it. She had thought later that perhaps that was the reason Gibbs had given her the keys in the first place, and she wasn't sure whether to be grateful or annoyed at the missed opportunity. Now, back in the bullpen, she had reached the end of her patience and, forensic evidence or not, she was rapidly deciding that the pencil in her hands would do the job just fine.

'You see, probies…' DiNozzo pushed his chair back from his desk and leaned back, hands clasped behind his head and a look of smug satisfaction still on his face. 'It's what they call a killer instinct. Either you got it or you don't'.

Ziva looked at the pencil.

'Gut told me the wife did it, but then you gotta work with logic, too'.

McGee wisely chose that moment to leave, muttering something about going down to see Abby and ignoring DiNozzo as he called after him.

'I'll collect that twenty from you later, McCranky!'

As he turned back to Ziva, she gripped the pencil a bit tighter.

'As I was saying, instinct on its own - not enough. You gotta have the investigator's way of thinking, the….. '

'DiNozzo, go down and see how Ducky's getting on'.

'Ah, boss, I…'

Gibbs did not look up, but Ziva could see his eyes twinkling.

'Go. Need that autopsy report'.

DiNozzo reluctantly unclasped his hands and stood up.

'Course, you also need a willingness to do the leg work'.

Ziva took a deep breath as he passed her desk.

'To be continued….probie…..'

She exhaled slowly as he disappeared down the corridor towards the stairs, and made sure he was actually gone before turning to Gibbs. He had finally looked up from his paperwork and was regarding her with barely-concealed amusement, his eyes laughing and that half-smile tugging at his lips as he looked pointedly at the pencil.

'He is…..'

She paused, searching for the right word to describe everything that DiNozzo was, but for the moment it escaped her. Maybe such a word didn't exist, and, not for the first time, she cursed the English language. She could think of plenty in Hebrew.

Gibbs stood up and crossed the couple of feet that separated them, moving around to where Ziva was sitting and leaning against her desk before reaching out and taking the pencil from her hand. He looked at it again, and raised his eyebrows.

She returned his gaze defensively.

'I have worked with less'.

She saw the smile slowly spread across his face as he put it back in the pot by her computer.

'Sure you have'.

'I have not been a probie for….for…..'

He nodded. He was trying not to laugh now, and not actually succeeding very well.

'He is insufferable!'

'Yeah'. Gibbs nodded again, still smirking. 'But I'd rather not have another body to deal with'.

Pushing himself off the desk, he moved around to stand behind her and, despite herself, she felt butterflies hit her stomach again as his hands rested on her shoulders. She twisted around to face him, her expression still indignant.

'I mean, how long can he keep it up?'

'All week. If you're lucky'.

As his hands began to move across the top of her back, she turned around again. Even through her jumper, Ziva could feel the tingle that his touch always seemed to leave on her skin, and she shivered slightly in pleasure and anticipation. It was the first time she had been alone with him since that morning in the observation room, when their 'talk' – and her massage – had been interrupted, and she realised that she had missed him. She had missed his touch, and missed having him close to her. She also knew that the few words he had murmured in her ear, before Eleanor Chaney had chosen to dramatically confess, probably did not constitute a proper discussion about the situation they found themselves in. But, for the moment, she was content to let him take the lead in picking up where they had left off.

She was not disappointed.

This time, however, he wasn't gentle. She winced as his strong fingers found knot after knot, working across her shoulders and up her neck, kneading and massaging away the stress and the irritation and tension. It hurt, but she closed her eyes as she felt her muscles loosening, and found herself relaxing as the pain gradually eased into a deep soreness that she knew he would soothe later. Letting him probe deeper and deeper, all awareness of her surroundings slipped slowly away until she was left only with him, his hands on her and his body close behind her, and, even though his arms weren't around her, she had an overwhelming, sensual feeling of being held. It enveloped her, aroused her and calmed her at the same time, and she couldn't do anything except let the sensations flood through her. She didn't bother to try and think about why it was that she felt safe. Why she could allow him to take her over like that and trust him completely. She just did. And it felt too good to analyse.

'Ouch!'

He had slipped his hands round to the front of her shoulders and pulled them back slowly, but firmly, until her shoulder blades clicked. Startled back into reality, her eyes popped open as her muscles stretched, before he pushed them back forward again to their proper position.

'Better?'

'Hmm'.

She closed her eyes again, reluctant to let the rest of the world back in just yet, and leaned her head to rest against his stomach.

'Yes. But you could carry on for a bit. Just to make sure'.

She heard him chuckle quietly.

'Later'.

There was a pause, and she sensed the slight hesitation before he spoke again.

'If you want'.

* * *

'_Better?_'

As Ziva leaned her head against him, her eyes closed, Gibbs moved one hand from her shoulder to run his fingers gently over her face, down from her temple to her jaw, before cupping her chin and tracing the line of her lips with his thumb. He knew that she must be sore after what he had just done to her shoulders and neck, but he could also tell that she didn't want him to stop. If he was honest, he didn't really want to stop either. The feeling of her surrendering completely to his touch was the most powerful thrill he thought he had ever experienced, but part of him was mindful of where they were. Instead, as his fingers memorised the contours of her face, he allowed his thoughts to wander along with them, trying to trace exactly how it was that they had ended up here.

He remembered sitting in his truck outside her apartment that evening….was it really less than a week ago? Five days. He remembered the internal battle that had been raging within him that night. Head versus body. Logic versus desire. All the rational arguments as to why it was a really bad idea had competed fiercely with the simple fact that he had wanted her badly, and had done so for a very long time. For a while, it had paralysed him.

Now, though, things seemed to have changed.

At some point after their first kiss, his heart had joined in the debate, rendering the arguments of his head redundant and doing so with a persuasive force that had left him reeling. It had shocked him, and worried him. It had left him wondering what the hell he was doing, and had reminded him why, precisely, it was that he had kept his feelings for Ziva so well hidden.

But it had also made him smile every time he thought about her. It was responsible for the tingle of excitement that ran through his body every time he was close to her, and the urge that he always seemed to have to touch her, to hold her. And it had already made sure that, when she wasn't there, he missed her.

Perhaps that was why he didn't feel much like fighting it.

'_Yes. But you could carry on for a bit. Just to make sure'_.

Her murmured words brought him back to the present, and…..God. That was tempting.

But not now. He was already struggling to keep himself under control, and if they carried on, he suspected that DiNozzo might get more than he bargained for when he came back up from autopsy. And he was also aware that they still needed to talk, or at least try to. Her reaction his words earlier had been clear, but he still needed to hear her say it. So, instead of doing what he wanted to do and kissing her, he heard himself giving her the option of 'later', if she wanted it.

But he thought he knew - at least, he hoped he knew - what the answer would be.

* * *

'_If you want'. _

Ziva opened her eyes again.

If you want?

Did he really still not understand what she wanted?

She shifted her head and turned around to face him, her brown eyes searching his blue ones, and almost immediately finding the answer to her unspoken question.

He understood exactly.

Something that had started out as a strong physical attraction had begun to turn into something more. She wasn't sure how – maybe, with the bond of mutual respect and friendship that already existed between them, it had been inevitable and they had been too blind to see it. Or maybe they had just got carried away. However it had happened, she had not planned it. She had not been expecting it.

But she had not tried to resist it too hard. And, from the look he was giving her now, neither had he – and suddenly it had caught up with both of them.

'I want you'.

She heard him inhale sharply at her simple words and, as he reached out his hands to cup her face, felt herself leaning once more into his touch. His thumbs gently stroked the top of her cheekbones as he swallowed, and spoke softly.

'Meant what I said earlier'.

'_Last night. Not a one time thing'. _Ziva shivered slightly with pleasure as she recalled how those words had made her feel.

'I know'.

'You know what this is doing to me?'

If it was anything like what it was doing to her….

'Yes'.

'Could still leave it'.

'No'. She smiled up at him. 'That is not going to happen'.

He took a deep breath, and dropped his hands from her face.

'Ziva, I got no idea how this is gonna work'.

'Neither do I'.

'You could still say no'.

Ziva paused, looking up at him thoughtfully. She knew how she wanted to answer that. She just wasn't sure if it would translate very well, and in the end she settled for something simpler.

'I think we are both too far gone for that'.

She smiled, almost shyly, before asking a question of her own.

'So….will you stay tonight?'

* * *

'_I think we are both too far gone for that'. _

He certainly was. And the relief that he felt at her words was indescribable. Despite wanting to give her the option, and despite all his reservations, he wasn't quite sure what he would have done if she had said no.

_'Will you stay tonight?'_

He heard the elevator doors slide open, announcing DiNozzo's return from autopsy and, looking behind him, saw the senior agent sauntering down towards the bullpen, clutching a thin folder in his hands and still wearing the same smug expression as when he left. Ducky's preliminary report…..and so the work would begin again. But, perhaps unsurprisingly, he found that he couldn't muster up much enthusiasm for the physical evidence that would, hopefully, confirm Eleanor Chaney's account of what happened. His mind was elsewhere.

Did he want to stay with her? Hell, yeah.

And if the world was turning upside down anyway, he figured he might as well give it a helping hand.

He bent down to speak softly in her ear before DiNozzo reached them.

'Think we might make it to bed this time?'


	8. Epilogue

_I remembered! Well, Zivacentric remembered...:). Last chapter here, a short one to finish with. Thank you to everyone who's been reading this - I really appreciate all your follows and comments!_

* * *

'_Think we might make it to bed this time?'_

Of course, the answer to that question was 'no'.

They finally finished at half past eight when Gibbs, in an uncharacteristic fit of generosity, told his team to go home and take the next morning off. Paperwork, he said, could wait, and Ziva smirked as DiNozzo and McGee struggled to hide their expressions of slight confusion mixed with relief and delight at finally being able to go and enjoy what little was left of the weekend. And, not wanting to give Gibbs a chance to change his mind, they packed up and left in less than five minutes.

Ziva, however, knew that the real reason for the morning off was so that he could spend it with her with no distractions, and she couldn't wait.

Neither, it seemed, could he.

After giving the other two agents a couple of minutes as a head start, they quickly gathered their gear in silent agreement, and made for the elevator. But the doors had barely closed behind them when Gibbs reached over and flicked the stop switch, and Ziva chuckled as he moved towards her.

'When you asked earlier if we would make it to bed, I was assuming that we would at least make it home'.

She felt his hands on her arms, pushing her backwards until she was against the cold steel wall, and felt a delicious warmth rush downwards from his fingers.

'Couldn't wait'.

When he kissed her, she found herself wondering if his lips would always make her this lightheaded, and whether she would ever be able to control the heated throbbing that always seemed to develop somewhere in her lower stomach when he touched her.

She hoped not.

'You remember...' She murmured against his lips, her breathing already shallow and fast as his hands wandered down from her back to her waist. 'What happened last time we were in here?'

'Umm-hmm'.

He pulled away slightly before moving his lips to plant light, feathery kisses down her jaw to her neck.

'Been meaning to ask about that'.

'Hmmm?'

Ziva closed her eyes and leaned her head back, giving him greater access to her neck as he gently kissed the exposed skin. She felt a delightful shiver run through her, and a soft moan escaped her throat as she arched her hips a little into his hands.

'You blushed when I mentioned cookie dough'.

Cookie dough.

Ziva stiffened slightly, and opened one eye. Had she really blushed?

Yes, she probably had. And she probably was again.

She squirmed as she remembered the dreams that had tormented her for most of the last week in glorious, technicolour detail. The ice cream. And the other one. Her on the couch, him watching...damn it. She felt a strong throb of arousal hit her between the legs, and only then did she register that he had stopped kissing her neck. When she opened the other eye and looked up at him, he was smirking.

'Ziva?'

'I may have...'

She paused. Part of her was still far too embarrassed to say that she had dreamt about him licking cookie dough ice cream off her nipples - and other places - and that she had also spent one night touching herself while he watched. On the other hand...well, he had certainly surprised her so far. She trusted him. And it could be fun. They had, after all, just finished another stressful case. Some relaxation probably wasn't a bad idea.

She returned his smile, a faint glint in her brown eyes.

'A dream. You. Cookie dough ice cream'.

'Yeah?' He raised his eyebrows, but she could feel him pressing against her and her smile widened.

'I cannot remember any...specifics'.

'Right'.

He moved his hand under her jumper and, ever so lightly, ran his fingers down her rib cage where he knew she was ticklish, making her wriggle under his touch.

'Sure about that?'

'It was not just that...' Ziva nearly squealed as he tickled her again.

'Really?' His hand moved lower. 'Not gonna tell me?'

Suddenly, without warning, his fingers deftly popped open the button on her jeans and his hand slipped down inside, running over the lace of her panties to...ah, hell. She gasped, leaning in towards him, and saw his eyes darken and his breathing hitch as he quickly discovered exactly what thinking about those dreams had done to her.

'You'. She managed to speak, her voice husky. 'I was...you were watching'.

She felt a sharp buzz of excitement and satisfaction as his eyes flared with something that could only be described as heated, heavy desire, and a slow smile crossed her lips.

'Which means...' Her voice grew stronger. 'Which means that you will have to be a lot more patient. If, that is, you would like to...?'

The growl that came from his throat as he pulled his hand free of her jeans was all the answer that she got - but it was all she needed. As he reached over and flicked the switch again to send them on to the ground floor, she couldn't help laughing. She was full of heady anticipation and excitement.

And she was happy.

She had a feeling they were going to be just fine with this.


End file.
